


Lessons in the Art of Deception

by MarvelousMind



Category: Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2614259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelousMind/pseuds/MarvelousMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The underbelly of financial empires can be a dangerous place. Ambition, secrets, and vengeance drive the elite to stay on top. Friendships are a liability, sex is a swindle, loyalty is for sale, motives are a game, and people are not always what they appear.<br/>The penalty for failure is loss, the price of success... regret.<br/>Ch. 1: Thomas teaches a rival a lesson in the art of deception, with a little help from a devoted associate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in the Art of Deception

He smiled down at her, that smile that was its own reward, the one that made everyone eager to please him, the one that made you feel accomplished just for the good fortune of having it bestowed on you. He stroked a finger under her chin, tipping it up to appreciate her, bathing her in the divine glow of his admiration. It was high praise; he was not an easy man to impress.

And impressed he was… a stable full of the best in the field at his command and she’d outdone them all. Not an uncommon occurrence, but she’d handled this one particularly well, and brought him something more. She’d a knack for turning underestimation to advantage, one of the many weapons in her arsenal, but he knew better than to underrate her. His pride reflected in her eyes, as did his pleasure, an emotion he knew she mimed convincingly for others when it suited her purpose, but only ever truly felt for him.

The hard edge of amusement faded from Thomas’s smile and was slowly replaced by desire as he returned her gaze. His eyes never left hers as he held out the keyfob and retinal scanner to Miles like a diner handing off his empty plate to the bus boy. As his best hacker scurried off with them Thomas distractedly addressed the room behind her, full of fidgety operatives shifting their stances like shamed schoolboys “Out”.

It was the tone of a man used to being obeyed.

His thumb stroked along her jaw as he lowered his mouth to hers and captured her lower lip, eager craving barely held in check by his renowned icy control.  As the others filed out his long elegant fingers slid from her chin down to the hem of her short skirt, quickly bypassing the fabric and seeking the heat of her center.

She sucked in a breath, always mildly surprised when he explicitly demonstrated the nature of their casual arrangement in front of others, but she smothered the inclination immediately.

She understood why he did it… if the others took her position with him too seriously, they might noticeably defer to her during an operation, tipping off the mark and costing her the advantage.

Aware that the room would soon be empty, mild indignation was quickly tempered by her trust and desire for him and she responded to his touch, slipping the front button of his finely tailored McQueen jacket open, and felt him smile devilishly in response.

Her hands were unbuttoning his dress shirt with the same care she took with all his endeavors, when she perceived a hint of distraction in his manner, confirmed when his lips paused against hers. He didn’t lift his physical focus from her, remaining only a breath away from her lips, but she felt his mental focus shift to their surroundings as he announced with casual challenge “Unless of course, you’d like to stay for the show Bardo? Looking to learn a little something? Lesson one, never underestimate the power of a proper tease”.

He grinned down at her, an expert studying his favorite subject “You play an exquisite woman the right way…” his finger circled deftly with just the right amount of pressure, prompting an unwilling moan to escape her “and she’ll sing like the finest Stradivari for you”.

An airy chuckle issued from a stationary position behind her, barely audible over the men shuffling out the door as if they all spontaneously realized they were late for some crucial appointment. “Are you offering?”

Instantly vexed, she stiffened and Thomas moved his hand with possessive negligence to her hip, running his thumb over it soothingly. An unfortunate side effect of their arrangement was not being taken seriously at all. Their own conspirators often mistook her for the part she played in his service, that of meek pet, forgetting that she’d earned her true place as his personal body guard. A position that his tall, lithely muscled frame and infamous reputation often rendered unnecessary and therefore, forgettable.

Thomas stared down at her, anticipation lighting his eyes and a fond smile curving his lips “Fucking is fucking, I couldn’t be arsed to care one way or the other who watches”. The crudeness of his words nearly lost as they were wrapped in the trappings of refinement lent them by his native London RP. His voice lowered cagily, as if imparting inside information, as he affectionately brushed the tip of his nose down her forehead “But she gets a little sensitive about it”.

An arrogant chuckle issued behind her again, “She can suck my dick too if it makes her feel better” Bardo was relatively new to their operation but there was no creak of the leather chair cushions to suggest he was actually foolish enough to accept Thomas’s invitation disguised challenge.

A pissing match then, to test his boundaries …

Thomas’s thumb stopped its stroking and his eyebrows rose as he finally lifted his focus off her and looked over at Bardo in mild challenge, his lower jaw shifting with annoyed authority. “Mmm, perhaps you’d care to make that offer to Jez directly?”

Jezebel slightly turned her head to look back at Bardo, her long wavy hair sliding aside to reveal piercingly intelligent eyes as she peeked over her shoulder at him. She arched an elegant brow and pinned him with a penetrating glare that indicated she’d rather kill him, and had no qualms about doing so. The menace in the simple look was enough to remind him that she wasn’t really the doe eyed arm candy she pretended to be.

His smug superiority faded as her look of warning visibly jarred some memory, apparently the boys had been telling tales… stories Bardo had dismissed as aggrandizement until this moment. He shuffled backwards out the door without another word, nearly bowing in apology as he pulled it shut with a click and the automatic lock engaged.

Jez turned back to find Thomas grinning at the door as if he’d just enjoyed a comedy sketch, before the encounter was overlooked for the moment and his lips descended on her throat. He breathed her in, a lightly clean amalgam of soap and whatever lotions and potions she used, avoiding signature scents or cloying perfumes that might be memorable or hinder her ability to blend in. By contrast his clean distinctively well groomed scent was mystifyingly memorable, and an intentional weapon in his arsenal. Scent was a link to memory and he made an impression people didn’t forget. All the same, her minimal scent was burned into his own memory.

His hands began to strip her clothing off, each piece hungrily followed by his lips over her skin. His hands were everywhere and he was hard before she’d even managed to shimmy out of the tight skirt.

In contrast to the rushed removal of her own clothing, she removed his with the meticulous care of a geisha preparing tea. Her graceful motions as sensuous to behold as the most wanton display of seduction, and he kept his darkened eyes attentively riveted to her.

They were hypnotic cerulean eyes set in a devilishly handsome face and framed by a pugilistic brow, cheekbones that could cut glass, and a sturdy jawline. If one could manage to tear their gaze away from this, they were struck by his physical presence. Tall, broad shouldered, with the hard lean build of a dancer, solid but not burly. He had an extensive collection of expensive, well-tailored suits. She sometimes wondered whether the suits were made for him or if he was made for the suits.

She slipped the suit coat from his shoulders, his sleeves wisping where they rubbed against the silky lining as his arms slid from them. The jacket was carefully draped over the back of his chair before she moved on to his tie, wrapping it around her hand to pull him down to her before she loosened the knot. He distracted her with his clever lips and hands, but soon the same silky wisping sound filled the silence as she slowly tugged the tie loose and tossed it to drape on a side table that bookended the large luxurious leather couch behind his desk, reserved for his personal use.

With a soft touch she lifted his arm, and he obediently kept his elbow stationary at his waist, suspending his hand before him so she could remove his cufflinks. Her touch so light and nimble it teased the sensitive skin of his wrists, making his elegantly relaxed, nearly closed fingers twitch in response.  She carefully laid the collected links in a velvet lined box of finely polished wood on the side table.

Finally able to free the top button and open his shirt, she slid her hands inside, savoring the texture of his sleek skin, taunt over the well-defined muscles of his chest. Her touch drifted south and she slid her hands under the waist of his trousers in a long teasing stroke before catching hold of the shirt’s tails and drawing them out, admiringly running her hands up the tight muscles of his abdomen and over his pecs to push the thin starched material off his shoulders.

She ran her hands over his deltoids and down his arms, pushing the fabric before them and enjoying the play of muscles under her touch, until she reached his wrists. Her fingers caressed before grasping the shirt cuffs. He shifted his arms out of the sleeves and, knowing he wouldn’t be putting it back on tonight, she informally folded it before turning and laying the shirt over the arm of the couch.

Impatience finally over took him and he grabbed her from behind, pulling her up against him and running his hands up her stomach to cup her breasts, roughly teasing the nipples while his lips worshipped the sensitive skin of her neck, running up to bite gently at the lobe of her ear. Her low moan of pleasure seemed to fill the room, at odds with the insulated quiet and professional sophistication of his lavish office.

He continued to trace hot kisses over her neck and shoulder as his hands began to migrate, one to her center and the other to press playfully at her throat with teasing pressure. His expert touch brought her frustratingly close before he turned her and sought her mouth, kissing her intensely while she made fast work of removing his belt and unfastening his trousers.

He pushed her down on the couch before she’d even completed the task, impatiently removing his trousers and tossing them aside with disregard as he joined her. His mouth hot and needy on hers, all pretense of control evaporating like smoke in a gust of wind. He entered her in one thrust, making her cry out as he suddenly filled her.

He gave her a moment to adjust as he reined himself in, and just when she was becoming desperate for him to move within her he did, but in slow teasing strokes that demonstrated his control had returned just as hers slipped away. She bucked against him and he hissed in a breath before making a chastising sound and reaching between them to tease her folds with his fingers, increasing her frustration in retaliation for the trick.

When he took her to the brink again and pulled back he elicited a pleading moan from her, beseeching him to give her release before he overstimulated her. He maintained his slowed pace and turned his attention to kissing her instead. Slow, deep, worshiping kisses, his lips alternately teasing, claiming, and surrendering against hers, enticing her to let him give her something more then what she thought she wanted.

She dropped her fences and let him in, allowing him to change the overt tone of their exertions from sex to lovemaking, taking his face in her hands and tenderly studying it, clinging to him as his pace pursued their needs. He groaned in response, enraptured by this deeper level of intimacy. He prolonged the moment as long as possible, but quickened his pace as they gave in.

She arched and cried out his name like a rapturous benediction as the pressure in her core peaked and the world shattered. His pace become erratic, bucking greedily into her while her limbs became weightless with the tingling heat radiating from her center.  She watched him clench his teeth, growling, straining toward his orgasm as it began to claim him. Then his face transformed into a display of munificent ecstasy, his jaw dropping open as he gasped for breath and grunted in a feral conveyance of almost painful pleasure. As the climax receded they lay like shock struck victims of some catastrophic event until the ability to function returned.

Then he pulled her to him, much more tenderly then their arrangement required, stroking her hair while they caught their breath. Every few seconds he placed a cherishing kiss on her brow, her cheek, the corner of her lips as if it were a compulsion. A lover saying goodbye one last time…

And in a way he was. By the time they’d caught their breath and separated he’d methodically cloaked himself in his usual distant demeanor, not quite the detachment of the charming showman with a subzero soul that he became in the company of others, but the warmth of her lover was gone.

The sudden tone of the phone’s intercom surprised them and Thomas sprang into action immediately, his assistant wouldn’t interrupt him right now if it were at all possible to avoid it. He was tugging his trousers on as he hit the switch to take the intercom off mute and Jezebel rapidly gathered up her clothes.

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you… but Mr. Raeburn is here to see you” the strain in his assistant’s voice suggested Raeburn was short on patience.

“Is he alone?”

The assistant’s voice lowered to the cautious whisper of the overheard “no sir”.

This was acknowledged with a steely reply “Send him in”.

Jezebel was scrambling to put her clothes on, only getting as far as her underthings before Thomas held up a hand to halt her and musingly ordered “Just my shirt for now, Jez”.

She nodded obediently and slipped into his discarded dress shirt, overlarge on her small frame. She hastily pushed the buttons through their closures while he ran his fingers through her hair, deliberately exaggerating its sex tousled state.

As the door lock buzzed he delivered a low command “Follow my lead” and kissed her deeply, languidly continuing for another moment before breaking it off to casually turn his attention to the waiting men.

An intimidating man, Raeburn was powerfully built, handsome, and ambitious. Like Thomas, he operated in the dark underworld of power, loans, real estate deals, anonymously working the market from inside, and assisting in accomplishing or spurning hostile takeovers for a price… all endeavors where information is essential and manipulation is an art form.

He’d recently inherited control over his father’s declining empire and was determined to intimidate his rivals into submission; Thomas was at the top of his list. Jezebel instantly marked the location of his gun by the cut of his suit.

Confirming this was no mere courtesy call, two burly men entered with him, obvious gun bulges under their off the rack suits quickly marking them as enforcers if their flat eyes weren’t enough to announce it. Thomas smoothed his hair and casually sat down at his desk to greet them.  Jezebel claimed their unwillingly given attention as she walked back to the leather couch behind Thomas’s desk, the curve of her ass peeking out beneath her shirt tails as she sashayed along.

She perched on the still warm leather cushions, indolently alluring. Just for good measure she tossed her hair in a demonstration intended to mark her as a vapid and irrelevant source of pleasure, innocuous to the proceedings but entertaining to look at.

Thomas’s unintentionally shirtless state and her presence had the desired effect, unsettling and galling Raeburn. Letting him know exactly why he’d been kept waiting, however briefly, and consequently how little he ranked in importance as far as Thomas was concerned.

He tried to reclaim some of his composure as he took the offered chair, a determined smile breaking over his face at the man sitting elegantly behind the desk despite his shirtless state, as exquisite of form as he was of face. Jezebel could almost see Raeburn’s brain switch gears as he began to view the scene as proof that that Thomas was some sort of fop and therefore an easy mark.

In the power struggle between high level criminals, these psychological games waged behind the civilized niceties, but there was a baser level of exchanges taking place as well, of physical strategy and defense, and Jezebel could tell Raeburn’s guard was definitely thrown on this level too. His belief that he’d caught Thomas unaware and unprepared in his own place of business, with no time for planning any sort of defensive scenario at the clearly unexpected visit, had given him a false sense of authority over the scene.

Thomas engaged Raeburn with condolences over the loss of his father and Jezebel’s thoughts raced behind her innocently blank veneer. Thomas certainly kept her on her toes, she often had to try to think two steps ahead of him, always risky when working with an unpredictable mastermind, but she thought she knew his game now. The problem was weapons; her gun and her favorite knife were in her discarded clothing.

She twirled her hair and glanced around the room with snobbish disinterest, keeping up her uninterested façade in an attempt to keep their attention off of her. When she was sure she’d been dismissed from their thoughts she pretended to reach for a magazine under her clothing on the side table and by sleight of hand concealed the weapons behind it before she carefully brought it back to her and pretended to flip through it.

The conversation dragged on and she mimed restlessness, an adjustment of the overlarge sleeve concealed her knife inside, scratching an itch on her back allowed her to arch seductively while she slipped the gun under the clasp of her bra. She’d agonized over this inconvenient placement, but these were trained professionals and they would recognize an ill hidden gun under the thin shirt, she’d settled on the back of the bra in the hopes that her hair would conceal its outline.

The civilities of word and tone continued, but the smiles marked a change in the tension, Raeburn’s more shark-like, Thomas’s more arrogantly knowing. Acting on an invisible cue, Jezebel stared at Raeburn from the corner of her eye, willing him to turn his eyes her way. When he complied she cocked her head to the side with coy interest. Casually drawing his distracted gaze back to her repeatedly until her ensuing approach was greeted with enthusiasm rather than suspicion.

She strutted up beside Thomas, leaning down and interrupting him mid-sentence to whisper loudly in his ear “This is boring, and I want to fuck again…”

His jaw clenched angrily and he took a deeply indignant breath before stiffly swiveling his head and speaking to her as if she were completely insignificant “Well  _I’m_  not ready, and you’ve just shown a complete lack of manners by interrupting. So sit your pretty arse down” he pointed commandingly at the surface of the desk beside him “and do what you do best, be seen… but not heard until I  _am_ ready”.

Jezebel did as ordered, scooting nearly to the center of the desk’s edge, bending and angling her leg in front of her towards Raeburn. She positioned herself enticingly within his reach in a suggestive display of mutiny and poutily lamented “Pfft, when will that be”.

Raeburn’s leering smile suggested he’d be happy to keep her occupied soon enough, before returning his attention to Thomas. Dropping the attention grabbing act, Jezebel did her best to blend into the background while maintaining a flirtatious front throughout the ensuing conversation.

“I’d be truly surprised to find you haven’t run into any enmity in your position, you’ve been in London a long time for this business, made a lot people very… uncomfortable”. Raeburn’s accent had an estuary quality to it, but with a bit of heavily suppressed cockney underneath. Jezebel was fairly certain the cockney became significantly more pronounced when he was angry and placed him as an east end native, possibly Essex. His conscious attempt to shift his pronunciation toward proper RP was a dead giveaway that, despite Raeburn’s confident manner, Thomas’s eloquence intimidated him.

A handsome smile tugged at the corner of Thomas’s lips, and stopped just short of qualifying as a smirk “Well, if I’ve been in this business for a long time it is only because I’ve had such invigorating encouragement from others in similar positions”.

Raeburn colored slightly at the insult to his father but he smiled “Well we are fortunate to stand on the shoulders of giants. For some of us it’s in our blood, and that’s the kind of instinct that evolves the game and leaves the other players behind”.

Thomas drew a small breath through his teeth and glanced down regretfully “Oh, well you see I’m of a much baser foundation as far as this game is concerned I’m afraid. Not so fortunate as to have had the opportunity to stand on the shoulders of anyone, though I understand the view can be rather… overwhelming for some”. He paused and subtly cocked an eyebrow, a muscle in Raeburn’s jaw clenched in response.

Thomas ignored it and continued “Never underestimate instincts honed in the field, cream rises to the top, and you learn how to keep your ear to the ground if you want to know what’s coming”. He smiled charmingly “It seems to have worked out well enough for me though, lowly self-made man that I am, I consider myself rather blessed”.

Raeburn’s smile suggested he was tiring of the game “Yes well, some people come into our life as blessings. Some come into your life as lessons.”

Thomas disregarded the threat, “Really Raeburn, Mother Theresa? I never would have guessed it. Your mother’s influence, I assume. That public school education doesn’t seem to have paid off. Do you actually have an original thought?”

In one smooth swift motion Raeburn was on his feet in front of the desk, a shiny wood gripped Kahr t9 aimed at Thomas’s face, his cockney accent taking over “I just might be a lesson you don’t survive.  Now you can bow out gracefully and hand your operation over to me, or we can engage in a little hostile takeover of our own” The enforcers behind him each laid a hand on their own concealed weapons.

Thomas tented his hands, unfazed, and patiently smiled at Raeburn. His reaction perplexing his guests until the click of a cocking lever cracked through the silence. They followed the sound with nervous gazes, their eyes sliding to Jezebel as they suddenly realized their folly in forgetting there was another person in the room. The woman they’d disregarded as an ornament grinned back at them, the muzzle of an HK P7 less than an inch from Raeburn’s temple as Thomas added conversationally “Jez here is a product of Cheltenham and Oxford… we don’t hold that against her though”.

“Drop them” she ordered icily. When they didn’t comply she tipped her head challengingly at Raeburn locking gazes with him. What he saw there convinced him he was in a far worse situation than he’d presumed. He wasn’t dealing with some foolishly loyal floozy with a gun, this was a force to be reckoned with, a professional, a mercenary. She pressed the muzzle against his temple.

The surrender in his eyes was greeted with a smirk as she confidently reached for his t9, casually pushing it away from Thomas before gently removing it from Raeburn’s limp hand. His voice suddenly haggard, he commanded the others “Do as she says”.

Their weapons thudded to the floor. She gave a jerk of her head and they heartily toed the guns, making them skid heavily across the floor until they were swallowed under the desk.

Thomas whirled with efficient grace from the chair, walking to an elegant configuration of cabinets and drawers that housed a small sampling of his wardrobe, and removed a fresh dress shirt. Casually slipping into it while he cocked an eyebrow at Raeburn “Impressive isn’t she?” he dipped his head to indicate Jezebel before he returned his attention to the shirt.

When Raeburn didn’t answer Thomas glanced up while his lithe fingers danced over the shirt buttons, doing a double take as he noticed the physical evidence of Raeburn’s opinion of her and amusedly smirking “You don’t have to answer that, I can already see you’re quite taken”.

His eyes cut over to Jezebel for the briefest moment, the hint of a command in the gesture, and she understood how he intended to play this. Carefully keeping the gun trained on Raeburn’s temple and her finger light on the sensitive trigger, she slipped over in front of him. He was still leaned against the edge of the desk, frozen under her command. She lightly perched on the desk, straddling him.

With complete disregard for any possible retaliation at such close quarters, she lowered the gun, teasingly sliding the muzzle along his length, further hardening him. Raeburn colored spectacularly; his thugs looking away in embarrassment and shuffling their feet uncomfortably.

Thomas smiled mockingly at Raeburn, as if he were puzzled by the strained expression of discomfort on his face. Raeburn whispered menacingly at her “When this is over, I’m going to fuck your brains out until I break you”.

Jezebel lowered her eyes to his crotch with an utter lack of concern and flatly stated “Not likely” amusement danced in her eyes as she looked back at Thomas “That bar has been set  _very_  high”.

Thomas smiled eloquently at her, neither humble nor conceited, accepting the complement as fact while he fastened his cufflinks with expedient aplomb. He turned around to reach for the other one just as she turned her attention back to Raeburn and a knife rapidly presented itself at her throat.

One of the bodyguards had snuck up behind Raeburn and tried to take advantage of the moment. Raeburn whispered “What are you doing you idiot?” while his eyes begged her not to pull the trigger.

Thomas’s movements behind her suddenly stilled and it was a moment before she heard him give a lightly rumbling chuckle “Oh, you should not have done that mate”.

Suddenly doubting himself, the man hesitated, and she took full advantage of it. Whipping her hand out, she mercilessly squeezed the pressure points in his wrist till the knife dropped from his lifeless hand. In an unexpected burst of rage, she kicked out, brutally catching him in the crotch and sending him flying backwards into the wall. His knife followed, wheeling through the air indiscernibly fast, the blade catching his jacket perilously close to his skin before burying itself in the wall.

Raeburn had closed his eyes, sweat beading on his brow, his rigid stance that of a man dreading the impending bite of an angry snake, his experience with guns telling him it was a miracle she hadn’t accidentally pulled the trigger of this particular model during the scuffle. He cautiously twisted his head to take in the scene behind him, his dazed bodyguard doubled over in pain, hindered by the arm pinned to the wall.

A trickle of blood began to drip from under the man’s sleeve, demonstrating just how precise her aim had been. The dread in Raeburn’s eyes when he turned back around was priceless. A man realizing just how badly he’d underestimated the situation. He attentively fixed his gaze on Thomas, waiting.

Thomas continued dressing , threading a tie around his collar “Now, if we’ve gotten that out of our system…” she could hear the irritation in his voice, the swish of the fabric from his overly exuberant motions. Whenever she got into a tight spot he always covered his concern for her with irritation.

Trapped and degraded, Raeburn gulped and stood stock still in concession as Thomas slipped on his jacket and came back to the desk. He stared down his nose at him, long lanky legs at parade rest, voice dangerously low “As far as learning lessons, consider myself the professor here… class is in session”.

“The trouble with my competitors is that they lack a certain flair, an ability to think outside the box. You haven’t made any strides towards disabusing me of that notion today.” Thomas casually gestured Jezebel aside as he took his seat again.

She swung her leg up, rolling her hips over the surface of the desk, fully extending her leg in front of Raeburn before it joined the one on his other side and she hopped neatly off the desk. Thomas graciously gestured for him to take a seat, as if the humiliating confrontation of a moment ago were already forgotten.

Jezebel stood off to the side, keeping a close watch on the proceedings. Raeburn reluctantly sat down, inconspicuously adjusting himself in an attempt to retain some dignity.

Thomas resumed a more conversational tone “Take this for example; I heard tell of a rather predictable setup underway earlier today. It seems a security guard at Oberum Corp was going to hand over certain confidential company documents that could be used to discredit them, drop their share prices, make them a nice little meal for Monsmith so they could escape from their pesky US tax rates and take out a possible competitor”.

Raeburn’s face went blank, all emotion tightly concealed behind a poker face, but his eyes lit up with interest. Thomas smoothly continued, the hint of a smirk playing around his lips, the soul of an elegant showman in his manner “Now brace yourselves… this fool was found unconscious in a little used hallway that was undergoing renovations, no security cameras to provide a clue as to what happened to him. When he awoke he found he needed to explain two things, why he was posing as an employee, and how his trousers had ended up round his ankles”.

 The intercom went off and Thomas picked up the receiver, listening for a moment before he simply replied “Thank you Miles” and hung up.  He continued his story as if the interruption hadn’t occurred. “He was the victim of a beautiful Oberum Corp employee, whom no one has ever heard of mind you, apparently she’d made him an offer he couldn’t refuse”.

He laughed, the deep sound gruff with wicked glee “I hear he was more disappointed to realize she hadn’t carried through, than he was at being swindled”. After a beat he sobered and cocked his head to the side, his jaw tightening with emphasis “Of course that was before he realized it wasn’t just his trousers that he’d lost, his company’s keyfob was missing” Thomas paused and emphasized “his real company”.

A fire lit in Raeburn’s eyes and his bodyguards became restless again. Thomas ignored the threat in his stare, egging on their distress with mock sympathy “An archaic bit of technology, that, but you know how crucial those system password generators can be for those who are dependent on them, vital if one is going to attempt to upload sensitive files to their company’s secure network. Expected to guard them with their lives, only the best, most trusted employees earn the privilege to carry them. Shame it hasn’t been reported missing, it’s left his employer’s files open for perusal by the curious, and you know how they have a tendency to copy those things…”

Raeburn’s eyes cut over to the phone, his body practically vibrating with fury. A slow sly smile spread over Thomas’s face, transforming it from sophisticatedly handsome to something sexily dark and dangerous as his eyes narrowed “This is how the game is played Raeburn… firstly, you have to be one step ahead, you have to be flexible, and you have to pay attention to detail… to be able to carry it off with style… and it helps to attract the right kind of people”. He winked at Jezebel before concluding “I hear your man is down at Scotland Yard right now, singing his heart out for a deal”.

The tension in the room snapped as the other body guard lunged at Thomas, but Jezebel had her knife to his throat and his back slammed into the wall before he’d even made it a few steps. She had her gun trained on the other bodyguard, but Raeburn had put together exactly who had taken down his operative and leapt to his feet, spinning around to face her and roaring “You slag!”

Before he could do more than yell, Thomas was on his feet and reaching across the desk, grabbing Raeburn’s hair with one large hand and yanking him back onto the desk with brutal force. He wrapped his other hand around his throat, his face a feral snarl as he leaned down to Raeburn’s ear. His voice low and threatening “One more thing Raeburn, you have to be willing to get your hands dirty”.

He held the struggling man easily for a moment, watching his face turn increasingly darker shades of purple before he released his throat and growled “If you can’t handle it, perhaps you should cut your losses and get out while you still can, because  _this_  realm” he chuckled darkly “it’s all mine”. He tossed Raeburn by the hair towards the door and the man stumbled to keep his footing.

He threw one last cowed look Thomas’s way and straightened his tie while Jezebel locked eyes with the man under her knife and meaningfully flicked her gaze towards the door. The man nodded in capitulation as she released him. He reached over and opened the door for his boss as Jezebel backed towards the pinned man, her eyes and gun trained on the men by the door as she reached over and yanked the knife out of the wall. The third man scampered after the other two.

They tried to retain as much dignity as they could for men running away with their tails between their legs, walking with many fidgety backward glimpses from the two humiliated enforcers. The rest of the office was abandoned in preparation for their exit, all doors sealed off, herding them towards a specific elevator that led to the general parking garage where Thomas had heavily armed enforcers waiting to escort them to their vehicle.

Jezebel watched them leave and as the doors closed Raeburn’s eyes skimmed up her and locked onto her own “I mean it you know.  _Someday I’m going to fuck you until I break you_ ”. Jezebel waved coyly just before the doors sealed and tried to shake off the ring of foreboding his words carried.

“All clear” she announced to Thomas, he was standing behind his desk again, the receiver to his ear and despite his distraction he smoothly replied “Thank you Jez” before turning his attention to the person answering the line. He brusquely uttered “Richard the second” into the receiver and Jezebel sucked in a breath as he rung off. He met her eyes and gave her a curt nod before turning his attention to gathering up his things.

It was a code… telling everyone in their setup that their current base of operations was compromised, instructions to wipe it clean and go underground until headquarters completed a move to a secure location. A series of these locations were already on standby for just such an event, and denoted by the names of Shakespearean plays, but only Thomas’s most trusted knew the locations and their codenames, people lower on the chain were informed of the new setting once their trustworthiness was reestablished.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme Thomas? I could’ve lured out the mole, Bardo practically showed his hand today with that cocky stunt, he knew”.  Thomas looked up with a raised eyebrow, acknowledging she was right, but continued gathering things from his desk. She laid aside her weapons and slid a hand up his silky lapel to draw his attention “this will set us back weeks”.

A light on the phone system turned green, an all-clear from the garage. Raeburn was off the premises.

He paused and looked at her sternly from the corner of his eye “It’s necessary Jez” before returning to the task at hand. Unconvinced, she continued to stare at him questioningly until he paused again and tersely confessed “I don’t like the way he looked at you” before he lifted the box he’d filled and strode from the room

“I’ll have someone else take care of the rest, grab your things and meet me in the private garage”. He paused and leaned back in the doorway, smiling wolfishly “We’ll take the Jag”.

**Author's Note:**

> This may be a one-shot or I may carry it on, if there is interest.


End file.
